


All in parts in pieces, swim lonely

by gealach



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Wolverines (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, mentions of suicidal behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll always be adrift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in parts in pieces, swim lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haku23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/gifts).



> post _Wolverines_ #20 and _Fantastic Four_ #645
> 
> Title taken from Evanescence's _Your Star_

He woke up in a bed. _Ah. I’m not dead._

He’d likely passed out from the blood loss. He’d been patched up: he remembered Laura - but no, it hadn’t been Laura - gutting him, but he felt nothing now… in fact, he felt numb: it followed that he had been drugged. He was restrained, too, as he discovered when he tried to get up from the bed; but perhaps it was for the best, he thought as he settled back against the cushions. Wounds like the one he’d suffered needed time to heal, when one had no healing factor. Daken gritted his teeth. Whoever had taken a hold of him had taken care of giving him medical assistance, so he should be safe for now. He had to figure out where he was, locate Laura, and elaborate a plan. The scents were the normal scents of a medical facility - but oh, wait, this one he knew - Laura? Was she in the room? It was dark… He was so tired…

He woke up with a start, the motion causing terrible jolts of pain in his abdomen, and bit back a scream. No reason to show weakness to his captors.

Then a scent filled his nostrils. Immediate relief washed over him, but he reined it in; after all, the last time they’d seen each other things hadn’t gone so well. So he waited for his guest to speak.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

“Are you in pain?” Johnny’s voice asked quietly. Of course he wasn’t angry with Daken anymore. Even if he should have been. Daken bit back the disappointment and focused on more important things - like the fact he didn’t smell Laura’s scent anymore. Had he imagined it?

He shook his head, a dizziness coming upon him, and croaked: “Laura?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Woke up just some hours ago.” Johnny was coming closer to the bed; Daken turned his head some - as much as he could - but obviously Johnny was just a blur to his left. Didn’t the stupid boy see that Daken had a blind spot now?

As quickly as it had come, the venom disappeared, leaving only a sour aftertaste in his mouth. Even if Johnny saw that, why should he care?

“Where -”

“At the Baxter Building. Of course. Sorry, of course you don’t -”

“How?” Daken interrupped the flustered blabbering.

“Uh?”

“How - here? We were… I don’t know where were we.” Daken closed his eye.

“Oh!” There was an annoying sound - Johnny must have slapped his hand somewhere. “Right. It was Laura. She babysat for us sometimes.” He fell silent as if that explained everything.

“And?”

“And called us for help.”

Daken grunted. Good thing she’d remained conscious long enough for her to call for help. And good thing - not to take for granted after his bombing New York - that they had taken care of Daken too.

But, after all, they were goddamn heroes.

Daken opened his eye. Johnny was still in his fucking blind spot. “So. Are you going to leave me to the authorities? The Avengers, maybe?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” There was a slight undercurrent to Johnny’s voice. A waver.

Time to take advantage of that.

“What stays your hand?” Daken made a slow, deliberate show of moving his head to try and get a look at Johnny. The frustration was only partly simulated; he still hadn’t got used to it. “Johnny,” he exhaled, “Please, could you - just move a bit to your left?” He put the right amount of shame in the whining voice, and Johnny inhaled sharply.

“Of course! God, I’m an idiot -”

And there he was, in all his gloriousness. He looked fine; Daken had heard that he’d lost his powers, but it hadn’t taken too much for him to regain them.

Had he been still his old, bitter self, Daken would have hated Johnny for how easily he’d come back to his feet.

He was blushing slightly and grimacing - probably in embarassment at his faux pas - and stood at a few feet from the bed, arms crossed on his chest. “Better?” he asked, wincing just so.

Daken nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Good.” Johnny bit his lower lip. “To answer your question, we - still haven’t decided what to do with you. We gave Creed to the Avengers already, but waited because - Laura was very vocal, when we got there.”

His blessed almost-sister. Daken smiled. “Was she?”

Johnny blinked a few times at him, as if surprised, and then said: “Yeah. She probably refused to faint before we arrived out of sheer will.”

“She’s very stubborn.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.” Johnny cleared his throat. “I should let you rest -”

“Stay.” He’d intended to say it, yes; he still hadn’t gotten enough information out of Johnny. But the need in his voice was raw and very real, and took even him by surprise.

He hid it well, though; while Johnny started, and passed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I mean, sure.” He stood there, clearly at a loss, his eyes never lingering on Daken’s left side - in truth, he was mostly staring at the covers.

“You can ask, you know,” Daken said, mildly irritated.

“No need to - I mean, Laura told us how -” he made a vague gesture, and that hurt. Just a tiny bit.

“Yes? How _thoughtful_ of her. Did she also tell you how I’m faring?” _How suicidal I was?_ No, Laura would be tactful enough not to. She wasn’t that manipulative, either, even if she must surely see that saying that would secure him a more lenient hand.

But Johnny blinked as his heart skipped a beat. Daken saw red. “Oh. She _did._ Wonderful.”

“She only said you’re - dealing with it…”

“Johnny, you’re incapable of lying. Spare me.” Daken shut his eye.

“I’ve had enough, you know,” Johnny blurted out, such a strange mixture of emotions in his voice and his scent that Daken opened his eye again. Johnny was clenching and unclenching his fists, a slight tremor to them. “I get it, Daken. I do. You can talk to me -”

“You _get_ it?” Daken snarled.

“Yes, dammit! I know how it is to lose your powers. I _did!_ And I - I crawled really low for a while, and -”

“You’re still _intact,_ ” hissed Daken.

“Daken.” Johnny sat on the bed. He was too close. Daken hadn’t invited him to. He didn’t want him here, didn’t fucking want to deal with this attitude. He only suffered it from Laura because she was so damn stubborn and wouldn’t take a no for an answer. “You’re still alive. That counts for -”

Daken laughed. “Alive? Like _this?_ ” He waved his left arm, and a phantom moved in its stead. He could still feel it. _Alive_ , indeed. “Spare me. Look me in the eye and repeat that.”

“I -”

“You won’t even look at me,” Daken said quietly, “Because I may be alive, but I’m not me. No more than you were when you lost your powers. You had no importance back then and you knew it. And I know it. I know my place.”

“That’s not true.” Johnny clenched his jaw, and finally looked at Daken. His eyes were aflame. “It’s not. You’re still the same, no matter what. You’re still you.”

“And what am I?” His voice was bitter. He didn’t want to hear the answer, not from Johnny’s mouth. He’d ruined everything between them already.

“You’re -” Johnny hesitated. “You’re my friend,” he said quietly, and Daken wanted to strangle him for his stupid naivete, for his big heart that kept him from holding a grudge.

“Am I?” Daken spat. “Do you really think that? After everything I’ve done?”

“I -”

“Then you’re stupid. A gullible little boy.” He shut his eye. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Why,” Johnny sighed, and the exhaustion in his voice was almost palpable, “do you have to make it so difficult?” He moved, but he did’t get up; his hand was hovering over Daken’s face. Daken didn’t open his eye; he didn’t want to see anything, _anything_ that would show him the vulnerability in Johnny’s features. The boy was deluded. He’d always been. Daken had been playing with him, always. He _had_. “I thought about it,” Johnny breathed, his voice so soft, “And I missed you. I’m not stupid, Daken, I know what you did. But I missed you.” _Stupid, stupid boy. Don’t say things you’ll regret, don’t say things that will make me use you._

_I don’t want to use you._

“You shouldn’t have,” he exhaled. Johnny’s hand was so close to his face that he could hear his own breath go against Johnny’s palm.

“But I did.” The moment stilled for what could be seconds, or eons. Johnny’s heartbeat was steady, his breathing quiet. For a moment it was as it could have been - a deranged fantasy conjured by the drugs still in his system. Johnny’s hand was inches from his face and he wanted it to cover that little distance… he wanted Johnny’s palm pressed against his cheek.

But Johnny moved his arm away. And all was as it should be again.

Then why did it hurt him so?

Daken opened his eye, and saw that Johnny was looking away from him.

But he didn’t move - he didn’t get up. He didn’t leave. He sat, and they talked no more, but it didn’t matter.

This was enough.


End file.
